Hidden Ability (Book 1) Read Free Page B

about?”
    Tomac prods Jalan with his elbow.
    Jalan swallows and says, “I, that is we, were talking about the windmill.”
    Although the estate has several windmills, Darla knows exactly to which one Jalan refers. Her expression darkens. “Didn’t mother tell you two to stay away from that windmill?” says Darla.
    “Yes. And, we have,” says Tomac. “It’s just that Jalan was thinking and he wanted to ask you something.”
    “It was your idea to talk to Darla. Why are you trying to put it all on me,” protests Jalan.
    “I’m just giving you credit for your idea,” replies Tomac.
    “My idea! All I said was that if mother hates the windmill so much then why doesn’t she tear it down? It wasn’t an idea. It was just a question. And you wanted to know why too!”
    Darla raises her hands in a gesture indicating the boys should stop right there. When she sees she has their attention, she tells them to come in and sit down. They are surprised to be invited into her private sanctuary and before they can recover they find themselves seated in chairs facing their sister. Darla sits on the other side of large worktable that has a large book and several sheets of paper scattered across its surface.
    “Jalan, tell me why you wish to tear down the windmill,” requests Darla.
    Jalan looks down at his hands folded neatly in his lap before speaking. “I don’t really want to tear it down,” he confesses.
    “Then what do you want to do with it?”
    “I suppose I want to repair it.”
    “Mother has forbidden anyone to go near that windmill after what happened to father,” says Darla.
    “I know that.”
    “Then why do you wish to disobey her?”
    “I don’t want to disobey mother. I just... Well, I mean...”
    Jalan feels his discomfort radiating out like heat from a fire. He is uncertain about saying more.
    “Yes, go on. It’s all right,” says Darla. Her words sound caring and concerned. “You aren’t in trouble and I’m not angry with you. I only want to understand. What do you really want to do?”
    Jalan looks away from his sister and brother. He gazes at the wall for some time before the words begin to spill out of him. They come slowly at first and then with gathering speed.
    “I know the timbers fell.” Jalan pauses. “I know that’s what killed father. And I know mother blames the windmill.” He turns his eyes back to Darla. “I watch mother. The way she looks at that windmill. She just stands there when she thinks no one is looking. She stares and stares as if looking will let her see father again. And, then she cries. When she thinks no one is watching, she cries. I don’t want mother to cry anymore. I don’t know why father had to die. I only know he did and I wanted so desperately for him to get up and hug mother and laugh or yell and chase me off because he was busy or anything, anything but die. Now mother watches that windmill and it takes something more from her every time she looks at it. That windmill has taken and taken. First it took father. Now it’s taking mother and I don’t want it to take her. I don’t want mother to die. And, if it’s that windmill that’s doing it, either the windmill needs to be destroyed or it needs to be finished. That windmill is the last thing father worked on. It needs to become something that gives instead of something that takes. That windmill has taken enough. If it was working it would be giving something. It would be the last gift father gave us.”
    Darla sits in her chair and studies Jalan. He does not know what she is thinking, but he feels the weight of her gaze upon him.
    “Go to Master Chander,” says Darla. “Tell him that I want a list of all the materials required to repair and finish the windmill. Be sure you understand everything on the list and how it will be used. You will oversee the work, Jalan.”
    Darla’s words are a relief to Jalan and bolster his sense that repairing the windmill is the right thing to do. He worries a